"What do you do here?" said Devil No. 1.
Before I could invent a decent excuse, Devil No. 2 exclaimed:
"You must not come with us."
This was consolatory and reassuring, so I replied—
"Heaven forbid."
During this colloquy, the table, the philosopher, and the devils, were all slowly moving upward to the open trap-door of the stage above. Seeing a beam some feet higher at a moderate distance, I inquired whether it was fixed and would bear my weight? "Yes," said Devil No. 1.
"But you cannot reach it at a jump," added Devil No. 2.
"Trust that to me," said I, "to get out of your clutches."
We had now reached the level of the desired beam, though not near enough for a jump. However, still ascending, we passed it: then stooping my head and bending my body to avoid the floor of the stage, which we were fast approaching, I sprang down on the beam of refuge. My two missionary companions continued their course to the world above in order to convey the wicked Juan to the realms below. My transit through the dark, subterranean abyss to my own world above was rapid. I soon rejoined my companions, who congratulated me on what they represented as my 'undeserved escape:' kindly hoping that I might be equally fortunate upon some future occasion.
Presence of mind frequently arises from having previously considered a variety of possible events. I had never contemplated such a situation, and have often asked myself and others what should have been my conduct, in case I had not escaped from my satanic companions; but no satisfactory conclusion has yet presented itself.
During one season, I had a stall at the German Opera.
